Every time I return to Delhi after more than a week away, I have to immediately make a pilgrimage to Khan Market. You may well wonder at the elevation of this higgledy-piggedly conglomeration of shops and eating places, located in the hallowed spaces of Lutyens’ Delhi, to a pilgrimage spot. But you see, it is a coming home of sorts – of being marked present in some invisible register of PLUs. Those nods of recognition from known faces, vaguely remembered faces and potentially knowable faces, are strangely reassuring in a metropolis that is mutating like a growth gone horribly awry.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not referring to the snobby ‘People Like Us’ sorts who are all about including and excluding. This fickle tribe gravitates to the latest ‘cool’ place to be seen in. In Khan Market the upper, middle and lower crusts continue to co-exist in harmony. Intellos, journos, diplomats, artists and students, expats, visiting NRIs in winter and the overflow from the India International Centre – the neighbouring watering spot for the culturati – are habitués of the place.

For me, the most valuable attribute of Khan Market is its ability to bring out the flâneur in you. In plain English, the gentlemanly or gentlewomanly voyeur, leisurely feasting on city life and the marketplace, without actually bothering with shopping. Flâneur comes from the French verb flâner (to stroll, to idle) and was epitomised by the 19th century Parisian dandy who ‘strolled’ through the arcades of Paris, savouring the spectacle of life.
It’s all about existence at a slower, less frenzied pace, with time-out to loiter with or without intent. You can go one step further and window-shop life itself while you watch the fascinating parade of people pass by you in idling mode, as they browse through books in the row of well-stacked book shops, stock up on gourmet or out of season foods or drift through the mushrooming boutiques.

Snatched bits of conversation with acquaintances while you pay for your Gruyère or the latest novel by Indra Sinha who has just made it to the Man Booker shortlist, can be continued over a coffee at Barista or in many of the cafes springing up here. And, of a day, you may observe Omar Abdullah scurrying past with aromatic kebabs bought from a hole-in-the-wall sort of place in the horseshoe-shaped, narrow middle lane of the market. The only hitch: when VIPs decide to indulge in some flânerie here (he also peruses through books) it is impossible to find a parking place.
Apparently, for a brief spell in the mid-19th century dedicated flâneurs took their turtles for a walk through the arcades of Paris: the turtles set the pace for them. Perhaps, they had it right. We all know about who won the race between the hare and the turtle. Easy does it.

Air kisses and big brands
Angels with wands have obviously been flying low over Khan Market, giving it a welcome makeover. It was never shabbily dressed, like the cinder-covered Cinderella, but wore an element of genteel drabness, a bit out of sync with the times actually. After all, it was built shortly after independence for refugee traders from the other side of the new border: they set up their small shops on the ground floor and lived in tiny rooms above.
Today, the fashionistas and air kisses have arrived, following in the wake of trendy boutiques, eating places and art galleries. Each week sees a big brand setting up shop. Where you once had outlets selling electrical and plumbing hardware, car accessories and car repair shops, you have stores offering the latest Gucci and Prada sunglasses and Etam lingerie. Swarovksi, Good Earth, Ogaan, Be: and Fab India (in a swankier avatar) have, amongst others, set up, here. The Body Shop is also moving in. Designer Deepika Govind from Bangalore has opened an elegant boutique, with an art gallery on the second floor.
Fortunately, the invasion has not transformed the essential character of Khan Market: the nouveau-swank of tinted glass and chrome is at a minimum. It may have become more expensive (what hasn’t?) but, at least in this city-in-miniature, you have something for differing tastes and wallet sizes. Restaurants like McDonald’s, Subway, Cafe Turtle, The Big Chill and gentrified dhabas are within nudging distance of each other. The high end exists comfortably with the middle or even low end.